


Still Waters Before the Storm

by iwtv



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Bigotry, Character Development, F/M, M/M, Reunion, end of separation/ longing, poliitics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwtv/pseuds/iwtv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas thought another moment, slow smile spreading across his face.</p><p>“What?” asked James.</p><p>“I was just coming to the realization that the closest thing I’ve felt to heaven is when I’m in your arms, and if that is a sin, then I do not want to live the life of a penitent man. I want your sin, and I want it all the time.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Waters Before the Storm

Black Sails missing scene: 2x05

=====================================================================

 

“Lieutenant, may I speak with you in private, please? Now.”

Miranda’s voice was tight—too tight—and Thomas could only guess that she wished to dissuade the lieutenant from the suggestion he had just made.

He hardly cared at the moment, because taking his eyes off James was the equivalent to having them ripped right out of his head. Three months. Three grueling months.

James's jade eyes met his with a quiet intensity, held in careful check behind a veneer of formality, just as he held his own desires in check. Thomas focused on the well-trimmed red beard and moustache that now graced his face. He imagined the feel of it on his fingers, his lips.

James kept his stare for as long as he dared before brushing past him and following his wife into the library. The doors shut behind them.

“Thomas.”

Thomas blinked, nearly forgetting the reason for their reservations. Peter Ashe had risen from his chair, countenance flustered. He spoke in a hushed tone.

“You must stop this, I implore you. You risk far too much.”

Thomas whirled around and crossed the room to the table that still held a glass decanter half full of bourbon and poured himself a drink.

“This has a chance, Peter,” he began. “If James can convince even half the sea lords—”

“I’m not speaking of the proposal, Thomas,” said Peter, coming to stand beside him. Thomas stilled and looked at him coolly.

“Oh? What then?”

His words were clipped. Peter sighed and poured himself a drink as well. 

“You know very well,” he replied, glancing over to the shut doors of the library. He looked back at Thomas earnestly, hissing out his next words.

“You and James—it’s simply gone too far. You will both drag one another down and frankly, I don’t want to see a good friend fall into such sin.”

Thomas let his composure fall to the floor, lip curling at Peter’s words and thumping the glass down on the table too roughly. He poured another dose of the dark, amber-colored liquor before replying.

“Sin, sin, sin,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “A meaningless word used to make weaker men cower in the face of stronger men.”

Peter made an abortive gesture with his hands to dismiss his words.

“I’ll not get drawn into another philosophical debate—”

“I love him, Peter. I cannot help what is.”

Peter looked at him with mounting frustration. Thomas endured a mini lecture from the man and was on the verge of throwing his glass across the room when the library doors swung open and both he and Peter straightened. Thomas left the table, not allowing his eyes to do more than glance at James's form. He focused instead on Miranda, who looked melancholy, her large dark eyes meeting his briefly before she turned to Peter.

“Well Lord Ashe, the news of the day has made me quite tired, I’m afraid. I think I shall retire for a nap.”

Thomas knew it was a lie, one he’d heard from her before whenever she wished to escape company—or a situation not to her liking. Still, it was an expected reaction for a woman and Peter accepted it readily. He bowed to her.

“Of course. I’m only sorry you had to hear it,” he said. Thomas watched with indignation as he threw James a cold look with the words, as though the news of Nassau’s governmental collapse had been the lieutenant’s doing.

Miranda smiled at him with forced politeness. As she passed Thomas on her way out she rested a hand over his chest in a comforting gesture. Gratefully he took her hand and kissed it. However she would not meet his gaze. Then she passed James and did look at him before taking her leave. James's stony countenance did not change.

The silence that followed in her wake was awkward. Thomas went back to the table and picked up his glass again.

“Here James. Something to settle the nerves.”

James came over and accepted the glass. His fingers, whether by accident or purpose, grazed Thomas's. Thomas's breath hitched slightly. James took a drink before addressing Peter. His calm demeanor did not change.

“Am I to understand then, Lord Ashe, that you do not support my plan?”

Thomas marveled at how James managed to keep himself so composed. Still, as Thomas finally dared to glance at his face he noticed how James’s jaw clenched, how he’d pulled a shade down over his face to hide himself. Peter looked at him with the same cold gaze before answering.

“I have supported this venture from the beginning,” said Peter. “But in this I cannot take part. Should you both change your minds…” He looked directly at Thomas, “…And decide on a safer course of action, you know where to find me.”

Thomas sneered into his glass at the barely-veiled jab at his and James's affair. Peter wished them both a good day and took his leave, crossing the great drawing room and going out into the corridor, heels clicking over the floor boards. Thomas let out an unsteady breath, hearing Peter’s voice as he spoke to Thomas's servant while he retrieved his coat. 

He stared down into the bourbon, teeth clenched with impatience. He could practically feel James somewhere behind him; it was like torture.

Just a few more seconds… he thought. Finally he heard the front door open and close. He glanced over to James, who had not moved and still stood as though frozen in place in the center of the room. The servant poked his head into the room.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” he asked.

“No Cedric, that will be all, thank you,” said Thomas with as much finality as he could muster. It had the desired effect and Cedric nodded curtly before disappearing back down the hall. Thomas's shoulders sagged as he sighed in relief. He turned slowly to face James, who was also taking a moment to unburden himself of the suffocating propriety he had been enveloped in. His hands hug loosely at his sides. He closed his eyes and opened them and turned to Thomas.

Thomas's heart fluttered when James's stoic expression melted away to reveal a tenderness and a longing there, his thick and elegantly long eyebrows coming up to form a wrinkle between them, lips parting.

Thomas pushed himself away from the table, a new kind of adrenaline filling him up to replace the earlier one charged by the distress of the day. James was in front of him before he knew it, all lips and breath and hands dancing over his face, starved after a three month-long fast.

A small noise of pleasure escaped the back of his throat at the sudden and forceful contact. It was James, all James and nothing but James. He smelled of smoke and aftershave and tasted like the sea, with a touch of the bourbon on his tongue. Thomas greedily took it all in. He raised a hand to James's face and touched his beard. It was thick and wiry, just like he’d imagined it.

At last James broke away from him, leaving Thomas breathless.

“God, I missed you,” he breathed, thumb gracing Thomas's bottom lip. Thomas’s heart ached.

“Words cannot describe how much I missed you,” replied Thomas. Their lips met again and Thomas closed his entire mouth over James. He wanted to devour him in some intrinsic way, to never let go. The intense moment came and then ebbed away. He reduced the ferocity of his kisses until they were small pecks on James’s jaw line and his throat. James let out a small moan. He placed his hands on Thomas's hips and pulled him close so that their bodies touched wherever possible through the thickness of their clothes.

When their initial greed had bedded down Thomas took a step back and appraised him.

“You look well. And this…”

His fingers came back up to the facial hair. “What is this strange creature that grows on your face?”

James gave a deep, throaty chuckle and a rare flash of teeth.  
“Do you like it?”

“I adore it.”

“I hoped you would. It took me the entire three months to grow it, no small task when one considers all the extra grooming involved.”

“A testament, then, to your skills not only as a seaman but a facial carpenter as well.”

James smiled, lips only this time, and reached for Thomas's waist band. He pulled Thomas to him as though the mere two feet between them was too great a distance. His gray-green eyes now studied him.

“And you, you look…invigorated, with the exception of these worry lines,” he said, thumb coming up to trace along the faint ridges on Thomas's forehead. Thomas took hold of his hand as it fell, feeling his earlier euphoria disappear.

“What has happened to Governor Thompson…it is a major setback. I do not know if even the sea lords will go for this now.”

A shadow crossed James's face, also dimming his initial bliss. He glanced over Thomas towards the front of the house, eyes narrowing.

“And Peter? What does he really think? You must have exchanged words while I was with Miranda.”

Thomas sighed and walked over to the table, throwing back the last bit of his drink and savoring its bite. 

“He is more concerned about our relationship than the one we are trying to build with Whitehall, I’m afraid. The smug bastard. Did you see the look he gave you?”

James joined him at the table. “I did. It was all I could do not to throttle him. As much as I hate to admit it, his absence from the proposal will be a great loss, will it not?”

Thomas did not respond right away. He leaned back on the table and crossed his arms as he thought. Yes, it was true that Peter had been the only one who had offered his assistance, the only one of Thomas's so-called “friends” who had believed in him.  
“For all his initial generosity, Peter can be callus to the point of insulting those he considers his lesser,” said Thomas at length. 

“Meaning myself,” said James.

Thomas looked at him with a soft frown. Then his expression hardened. 

“Fuck him. He judges you because of your feelings for me, not for your own merits or character. If he cannot see past that which doesn’t even concern the proposal then he’s a bump in the road anyway.”

“He is your friend.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not anymore,” Thomas added softly, the words forming in the same instant as the thought. He didn’t want to lose Peter’s allegiance; he was one of the few people Thomas considered a true friend, yet if Lord Ashe was unwilling to even tolerate James, then fuck him, indeed.

James gave him a pinched look, as though to say he was sorry but not sorry. After a moment in silence, he asked, “Didn’t Peter mention the possibility of some of his acquaintances’ interest in the West Indies? Perhaps you could hold a meeting to gain their ear.”

Thomas had considered this himself. A few of those acquaintances liked him well enough…

He let out a heavy sigh. His mind was tired of thinking about this, about Nassau and Peter and anything else that had nothing to do with the fact that James was returned to him.

“Enough,” he said, setting down his drink and removing James's from his hands. “No more about it just now. I just want to look at you and to enjoy you while I can.”

James's expression brightened with his words, lips going up in a crooked smile.

“I have no objections, my lord,” he said.

“Good. Then come.”

***

Together they left the drawing room and its gloomy atmosphere and retreated up the stairs and into one of the guest bedrooms. As the more prudent of the two of them, James inquired as to the whereabouts of the servants, including Cedric. Thomas assured him they would not bother them this time of day unless Thomas or Miranda called on them.

“Miranda,” said James suddenly as they rounded the top of the stairs. “She’s worried. More than worried, actually. She thinks this venture will ruin all of us. Even after our discussion I don’t think I convinced her, Thomas. I could see it in her eyes.”

As they entered the bedroom Thomas turned to him, sapphire eyes filled with concern.

“She said that?”

James nodded, closing the door behind him. Once he had, he dropped more of his formal language.

“I’ve never known her not to speak her mind, and she did. But then she pretended to believe me,” he added.

Thomas could see he was clearly upset by this, and he had to admit it was upsetting. One reason he and his wife got along so well was precisely the fact they were honest with one another in all things, even if it led to arguments—trivial things in the grand scheme of their marriage and companionship that always eventually healed over. So it was disturbing to him that she should lie—and lie to James.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, adrenaline ebbing away in light of yet more distressing news. James was shrugging out of his heavy navy coat, draping it over a chair. He sat down and took off his high black boots as well, then the belt and scabbard at his waist. Thomas watched him, a wisp of contentment coming back to him. The more of the cumbersome clothing he stripped off, the more at ease he seemed to become, and the more attractive to Thomas's roaming eyes.

He could make out more of James's body, the broad chest, his strong arms as he pushed up his sleeves; the smooth bulge of his calves, well worked from years of ship’s labor. 

James came to him and squatted down in front of him, jade eyes imploring. He rested his palms over Thomas's knees.

“It will be all right. We will figure something out. The world will keep spinning, I promise.”

An easy and quick and delicious response came to Thomas's lips.

“As long as you are in my world, then it will be so.”

Easy. Quick. Perhaps not true, but at the moment he didn’t care. James rose and pressed his lips against Thomas's. He sat beside him and Thomas simply enjoyed the easy contact at first. James was a fine kisser, knowing when and where to probe into Thomas's mouth and the back of his ear, his throat, and down further, opening up his shirt and kissing his chest, lips tickling against the small amount of fair, curly hair that grew there.

Slowly each touch and caress by James become more passionate and more impatient, until Thomas felt his groin responding. He began stripping away layers of clothes, until he was down to his light cotton breeches. He let James's touch roam even further; his hands massaging his lean chest muscles, down to his stomach, where he made his touch so light that it tickled madly and Thomas laughed and batted him away.

He sprawled out on the bed and gave James more freedom, closing his eyes against the onslaught. Then James started rubbing his crotch, and Thomas moaned. It took only another minute or so and Thomas sat up and deftly slid off the bed, pulling James with him. He took him to the wall and roughly began stripping off the lieutenant’s remaining clothes. Seeing what he was about, James quickly helped him, until he stood nude before him, lips slightly parted.

Not taking his eyes off those lips, Thomas slid out of his breeches and pushed James's back against the wall. He delivered more kisses, until James was breathing heavy against him, lips parted beautifully. Thomas pulled the black ribbon out of his hair so that the glorious mass of red-brown cascaded down past his shoulders. James ran a hand through it, smoothing it out and letting it fall to frame the sides of his face.

“Jesus, look at you,” Thomas said, drinking in the sight. The difference was almost night and day. With his hair loose—and now with the beard—it gave the naval officer a wild, primitive air, but it also screamed of a primal sexuality that made Thomas's breath hitch.

“You look like some dangerous but delectable savage,” he said.

James cocked an eyebrow at him. 

“Are you calling me a pirate, my lord?”

“Mmm,” was all Thomas said, moving in to kiss his throat. He let his hands roam further down, until he had James panting helplessly against the wall, sheen of sweat gracing his forehead.

James turned and Thomas took him from behind. Even after three months, Thomas was delighted to find that they maintained the same flawless, rhythmic dance they had created many months before their separation. He knew how to move both with and against James, how to make him moan or even cry out; how to make him reach behind and grab Thomas's hair and pull.

They did not last long, however, not with both of them being so long bereft of pleasure, and they both tumbled onto the bed not long after. Still, Thomas's heart sang. It was as though his whole body was charged and humming, even as he needed to catch his breath.

He could only guess by the expression on James's face after he’d caught his breath that he felt the same. Thomas turned on his side and kissed him, unable to quite keep his hands and lips away from the beard and the hair. 

“All right already,” said James between bouts of chuckles. “You must give me a moment.”

Biting his lower lip, Thomas reluctantly flopped back onto the bed, still feeling giddy.

And it was as it had been before James had left. They spoke of trivial things at first, about the goings-on around London and the politics between England and Spain briefly, and then Thomas filled James in on all the ridiculous gossip he could recall, some of it sending both of them into little fits of laughter. 

They spoke until James began kissing him again, here and there up high and then moving lower and lower. When his lips were against Thomas's thigh on one side he brought his hand to rest on the other thigh, being very careful not to even brush against anything in-between, which slowly drove Thomas mad and he shut up, thoughts lost to the wind.

This time James took him. They remained on the bed, with Thomas on his back and his lower half pulled up into James's lap. Now Thomas felt his body positively sear with heat as he was able to watch James. He loved being able to see his face contort into pure pleasure. James's lips would press tight together and then go lax, head falling back and his chest rising and falling with effort. Thomas's gaze travelled down to watch his pelvis thrust into him and he nearly went over the edge.

They lasted longer the second time. When it was over Thomas knew he was going to be sore in the morning—happily so.

“Come here,” said James, beckoning for him to crawl up between his legs as James sat with his back against the headboard. Thomas did so, twisting around to rest his back up against James's chest, still warm from their exertions. James wrapped his arms and legs around him in a possessive manner that Thomas found made him feel safe and secure at the same time it made his stomach flutter sexually. 

James whispered sweet little things into his ear for a moment, then they both fell silent and Thomas felt himself nodding off. His last thoughts were of their day together, minus the awful part of the afternoon spent in turmoil with Peter Ashe. That discussion could wait. As it turned out, it would only wait until the morning.

***

Thomas drifted in and out of sleep as the gray dawn gradually stirred him, until it was too bright to ignore. The moment he stirred he felt the light pressure of lips against his bare shoulder. Thomas turned on his back to see James smiling sleepily at him.

“Good morrow,” said Thomas with what was apparently too much enthusiasm because James groaned and pulled the pillow over his eyes. Thomas laughed.

“For someone who is so used to rising early for drills, you don’t seem very eager.”

“I cherish the days when I do not have to rise early,” replied James.

“Fair enough.”

There was a knock at the door; three raps that made both men startle. James shot up like a spring and reached over the bedside for his breeches.

“It is me,” came the muffled feminine voice from the other side of the door.

Thomas let his shoulders relax as he sat up. 

“It is only Miranda.”

James sighed, dropping his breeches but still looking visibly uncomfortable. Thomas waited a beat for him to adjust himself, pulling the sheets up over his waist, before addressing the door.

“Come in.”

Miranda entered, opening and shutting the door prudently behind her. She wore only a simple buff-colored morning dress and corset, her thick black hair still undone and draped over one shoulder. She startled when she saw James. Her eyes fluttered to the floor and then to Thomas. 

“Apologies. I didn’t know you were here…”

“We weren’t occupied, my dear. Merely waking up,” said Thomas with something akin to a leer. Miranda grinned, but James’s face reddened, which—at least for Miranda—seemed to break the tension. She pulled up a chair and sat down directly beside James, who tried to sit as upright as was possible, clutching to the sheets.

“Lady Hamilton, I—”

“Really, James,” Miranda broke in. “After only three months, you revert back to titles?”

Her sweet yet spicy tone seemed to have the desired effect. James raised his head to look at her, slightly crooked smile gracing his lips under his thick beard.  
“Sorry. Old habits die hard.”

Miranda chuckled but then stilled. Thomas recognized the longing in her eyes and knew she had missed James nearly as much as he had.  
“I missed you so,” she said, almost sorrowfully. 

James forgot his propriety and reached for her. Miranda left her chair and bent over him. Their lips met in a long and passionate kiss before Miranda broke away and sat back down again.

“And do you find the fuzzy addition agreeable as well?” asked Thomas, leaning over to preen at James’s beard. James suppressed a laugh and leaned away from him.

“Really, Thomas...”

“I think it makes you look even more handsome,” said Miranda, then added with a raised eyebrow, “If not somewhat wild.”

“Exactly what I said,” quipped Thomas.

“That’s it. I’m cutting it off,” said James in mock seriousness. 

And for a few precious moments Thomas could believe that nothing had changed, almost forgot that it had, until Miranda broached the inevitable subject.

“I’m glad you are both here for another, more pressing reason,” she said. “The news from Nassau and the proposal…I don’t need to tell you that you must decide what you intend as soon as possible, never mind Lord Ashe and his infuriating attitude from last night.”

Miranda fixed her husband with her gaze. Thomas sighed quietly. He raised a knee under the sheets and rested an arm over it, thinking.

“Right now as I see it, there are only two options for help,” he said. “We can appeal to the sea lords and use both the lieutenant and Admiral Hennessy’s pull…”

“An option I attempted to talk James out of last night,” Miranda slid in.

“….Or I could see if I still hold enough favor with Peter’s acquaintances. Or we could try both.”

“No,” said Miranda firmly. “That will most certainly draw too much attention. It will attract the wrong attention from your father.”

“But it would be the quickest way to find at least some supporters out of a pool of so many,” countered Thomas. “And besides, these people may be the only ones my father has not yet gotten to.”

“Then we should act quickly,” said James. “I can probably meet with Hennessy later today or certainly tomorrow. I’m confident I can convince him not only of your goals, Thomas, but of your character as well. He is a man who believes strongly in the character of others.”

“Wait a moment,” said Thomas, twisting on the bed to face him. “I want you to stop and consider your role in all this, James.”

James’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that if you do this, you will be more than simply my liaison; you will be an ally to my cause. Once the admiral sees you have chosen a side, he may not take to the proposal so kindly.”  
“I already am an ally to your cause, Thomas. I understand the risks—”

“Do you really? Do you understand that you could lose your title as lieutenant, possibly even your standing in the navy? As I said before, my father will make you a target, and I won’t allow it.”

“Jesus Thomas, what are you going on about? It’s still only a proposal. Even if Hennessy did not join us, even if he thought less of me, the effects would only be temporary. Your father does not have the power to command my career.”

“Yes he does,” said Thomas, almost yelling it out. He turned to completely face James, hoping his expression was serious enough.

“Listen to me, James. If he so wishes, my father can get to the admiralty in the navy. He can turn everyone against you if he so wishes, all to keep me from achieving this proposal. There’s absolutely no need for you to burn alongside me. Why would you even want to?”

“A question that bares some merit, since I don’t recall it being addressed before” Miranda said to James softly. 

She had risen from the chair and was now pacing back and forth in front of the bed. James looked from him to her. Thomas could not read his expression. 

James looked down at the sheets, lips turned down. He ran a hand over his beard. Thomas waited, feeling as though surely James was re-considering his position, as he should.

“Why would I want to risk everything for a proposal?” he repeated slowly, looking to Thomas. “Because it means the world to you, and you mean the world to me. I’m not risking everything for a proposal, Thomas. I thought that was clear.”

Thomas sat back, shocked into silence. His emotions warred with one another, zipping through his head and heart and making him dizzy.

It was the closest James had come to saying the words ‘I love you.’ He, unlike himself, was not a man given to discussing his emotions, whether they be obvious or subtle. Still, the casual, matter-of-fact manner with which he’d spoken of them just now told Thomas exactly where James stood. With him. To the end. God, he loved him. Loved him as much as he loved Miranda, loved him more—a realization that made his bones ache. 

He loved James too much to allow this risk. Lieutenant McGraw had so much going for him and James knew it, yet he was willing to risk it all just for him.

He should simply put an end to it, then. Drop the proposal; pass it off to someone who did not have Alfred Hamilton as a father. Let them fix Nassau…

Then he would be a failure. Even if their plan never succeeded, he could at least live with the knowledge that he had done his best. He was not a man to give up on anything. Ever.

But if it meant ensuring James’s safety…

“Damnation,” he muttered, throwing off the sheets and walking over to the bedroom window, heedless of his lack of clothing. He leaned on the sill, one hand in a fist.

“Are you considering dropping the proposal?”

It was Miranda who had voiced his thoughts, as in tune with him as ever. She had ceased her pacing to stand at his side. Her voice was quiet and non-accusatory.

“I don’t know,” he said miserably. “Perhaps it would be best.”

He hadn’t meant his words to come out so deflated. James cried out in protest. “No! You cannot.”

Thomas turned and saw the frustration knitting James’s brow. His own anger eclipsed his usual calm demeanor. 

“This proposal does not mean more to me than you do,” he said loudly, fixing James with a hard stare. James left the bed, deftly grabbing his breeches and pulling them on as he crossed the room. Miranda took a step back as he grabbed Thomas’s arm, forcing him to turn.

“If I knew this is what you wanted, to end this, I would gladly agree to it,” James said. His eyes burned. “You focus only on what might happen if we lose. What about what we have to gain? Life would become easier. All the inane gossip, the rumors, they would fade away and we would be free to live our lives as we see fit.”

The double meaning of James’s words was not lost on him. He was right, of course. Everything—including their affair—would be easier if they succeeded. He and Miranda would be elevated in the eyes of Whitehall, his friends, his father. So too, would James be elevated within in the navy. Even so, Thomas hesitated. Finally, after a long pause, he said in a whisper, “I do not know if I could bear it if something happened to you.”

It almost hurt to speak the sentiment out loud, as though if he gave voice to his greatest fear it may come alive.

“Thomas.”

The delicate voice returned, full of care. The pair of jade-colored eyes were full to the brim, fixated on him. James held Thomas’s face between his hands and kissed him softly.

“We are in this together,” he said. “It would be shameful to quit.”

The words rang true to Thomas, touching the core of his ethics. He kissed James back, feeling grateful. Then he turned to Miranda, who waited respectfully behind them.

“And my loving wife. Where does she stand? Your happiness is as important to me.”

“And to me as well,” said James.

Miranda approached them and kissed her husband reverently on the cheek.

“You would not be the man I married if you did not pursue this, and I cannot be happy if you are not.”

She turned and fixed her gaze on James.

“And the same goes for you.”

Silence followed her sentiment. And Thomas could do nothing more than to smile at them both. Once again the tightly-wound tension in the room drained away. James walked over to Thomas's side of the bed and swiped up his breeches, tossing them to him. He looked over Thomas's naked front, lips curving up in an impish grin.

“Put some clothes on,” he said roughly.

Thomas mirrored his grin and Miranda stifled a laugh. Then she whisked herself out of the room to see if breakfast was ready, looking happier than she had been last night.

Once more all felt right to Thomas. Where was the sin Peter so arrogantly spoke about? It was not in this room; he felt not the tiniest pinprick of it. And if it was a sin, what the three of them were doing, then he supposed his life would have been a living hell if he had chose to deny himself, as he knew so many other men often did, living their lives in misery. 

Thomas thought another moment, slow smile spreading across his face.

“What?” asked James.

“I was just coming to the realization that the closest thing I’ve felt to heaven is when I’m in your arms, and if that is a sin, then I do not want to live the life of a penitent man. I want your sin, and I want it all the time.”

James looked at the floor, hiding a grin. Yet when he raised his head the grin faded and two deep pools of love shined in his eyes. He tenderly kissed Thomas on the mouth.

“Truer words were never spoken.” Then, in a lighter tone he added, “But can our sin wait until after breakfast? I’m positively famished.”

Thomas laughed and nodded. They finished dressing and Thomas followed James out the door. He paused in the doorway, hand on the knob. A sudden sense of how precious time was entered his thoughts. How long would he and James share this bedroom together? Thomas knew his love—their love—could go on for infinity, but he was not foolish enough to believe that their pristine, unmarred time together could. Even as careful as they were, as perfect as they were, a little voice in the back of his mind warned him that time was plotting against them.

He did not fight against it. Rather, as his eyes swept along the unmade bed and the light dents made on each side, he accepted it. He would fight It when Time finally turned against them, but he could not stop It from coming, no more than he could stop the currents of the sea that had taken James away in the past and inevitably would again.

He let out a sigh and remembered he was hungry. The three of them would eat breakfast together, another small moment to cherish. He turned and shut the door.

 

End.


End file.
